“All of them – Hattie and Willie and Evelyn and even ruined, crazy Walter – were little lights; sparks flying upward in dark places, trying to stay light though they were compelled toward ash. They were nearly extinguished one moment, then orange and luminous the next.” -Ayana Mathis, The Twelve Tribes of Hattie
If I have to pick a favorite line from this novel, it’s this. Our existence like sparks.
We shoot out like sparks into the deep yawning of this world. Piercing through the pangs of loss and the bitterness leaving blisters on our toes. We buck and we break and come with two fists swinging. Running recklessly from the assumptions and safety and familiarity. Desperately looking for something divine but different.
Even though we are all compelled towards ash. Even though we know, we’re all going to burn out eventually.
We defy it all anyway.
We are restless in our wild goose chase of who we are and why we are here and why now. To all those curiosities bursting through our short lives as sparks.
Don’t flee the wind that burns you brighter. Even if it takes you a million miles deep into the inky darkness.
Never fear that fight. Usually, the kicking and swinging and drowning will lead you to the firm ground your faith can truly grow in… For perhaps the first time.